Regret, Remorse, Relief, Repair

Healing cometh after the fall

Austin and I had a terrible motorcycle accident a few days ago. We were in Thailand on a combination 14th wedding anniversary / Austin’s birthday trip. On a lark, we decided to rent a moped and go to our favorite beach in Phuket. Then, less than 10 minutes into the ride, we were hit by a car.

Don’t worry — we are okay overall. No fractures, no head injuries, and no major physical damage. Just bruised and banged up and needing to give the second half of our vacation over to recovery time before traveling home.

I want to share this story because of the complexity of feelings that have kept coming up since it happened. I imagine it is something many of us can relate to, any time we have had a ‘crash’ in life and/or work. And, I trust that it will support my own healing, our healing as a couple, and potentially healing for others out there.

My first instinct in the moment of the crash was a combination of fear and focus. I was so afraid of Austin being hurt, or the driver and passenger of the car being hurt, that I went into triage mode. I got up off the road and started checking on everyone. Somehow, I assessed that my injuries, while painful, were not too bad, and so my focus was on getting us to the side of the road, getting the moped off the road, and getting help. The police and some helpful bystanders arrived, and soon an ambulance came. Austin was having a lot of pain in his shoulder/back, and so we headed to the emergency room. I gave the key to the bike and helmets to the police officer, along with the number of the rental company, and climbed into the ambulance with him. I was scared, not knowing how we were going to navigate all of this in Thailand, where we don’t speak the language and are not familiar with its medical or police systems. At the same time, I was also breathing and grounding myself, reassuring Austin that we were both going to be okay, we were both alive, and no one else was hurt.

Things slowed down when we got to the public hospital, and they started assessing our injuries and bandaging us. While we were waiting for them to take x-rays, to make sure Austin didn’t break a bone, the regret kicked in. Each of us shared that we had had doubts about taking the moped, but didn’t want to hurt the others’ feelings about it. We noticed how quickly we made the decision, how we didn’t talk it through more, to recognize the lack of experience we had and the potential consequences of that lack. We berated ourselves for the sheer absurdity of making this our first experiment with a moped — a 25 minute drive, in a country we don’t know, on the equivalent of what passes for a freeway on the island. We each felt stupid for making a choice that could have cost us our lives and/or the lives of other people.

All of that regret was followed up by remorse, which I think of as a combination of sorry and sorrow. I felt I needed to apologize for my role in making the decision that led us to the accident. I saw how my flippant desire to have an adventure, my underestimating the seriousness of the context, my thinking that ‘everyone does this’, and my wish to save money, all contributed to a hugely consequential choice. I felt sorry that we had brought this pain upon ourselves and this unfortunate hassle into the lives of the car driver and the motorbike rental company. I was full of remorse, wishing I could turn back time to any of the little moments that led us to this one.

At times, relief would come in, too. I know how much worse it could have been— had we not been wearing helmets, had the crash happened elsewhere, at a different angle or higher speed, and so many other microscopic factors that could have made it a very different story. I felt we were protected and held by divine grace through it all, and recognized that, as mistakes go, we got off easy. When the relief kicked in, I felt humbled and grateful, in part, but also like I was bypassing the pain. Then, I felt guilty for not beating myself up more, and the regret and remorse would return.

This whirlpool of feelings continued, and over the first several days after the accident, I found myself continuously going back in my mind and imagining myself making different choices. I kept catching myself in this loop of regret, remorse and relief, honoring it and giving it space, even as I also aimed to come to the present moment and accept what was. The cycle would come fast and furious though, each feeling jumping on the other, a kind of mental whiplash and inner destabilization, on top of everything else.

Yet, somehow, at the same time, we began to make space for repair. It started physically. We did our best to communicate with the nurses and doctors who treated our wounds at the hospital. They cleaned and bandaged us and confirmed that we didn’t have any major body trauma. After we wrapped up there, we went back to our hotel. We were met with so much kindness and sympathy by the hotel staff, it made me cry. We then went to the police station to meet the driver and passenger and the motorbike owner, and there too, we were met with a lot of care. From the daughter of the driver who came to help because she spoke English, to the motorbike owner who sent kind Whatsapp messages and offered even more compassion in person.

Coincidentally, it happened to be the driver’s birthday, and the next day was Austin’s birthday. The driver and his wife were just visiting their daughter for a few days, and though we had ruined their visit and his birthday, he just kept smiling at us with tenderness. His wife (the passenger) even brought us some Thai cookies because she felt so bad for our injuries. Though we had to pay for the damages, they all tried to make it easier on us by going slow and giving us time to understand the procedures and rules, and figuring out a way of payment that worked for us and them.

The acts of kindness just continued from there: the hotel staff who delivered our dinner that night and shared his own motorcycle accident story to help normalize it all; the amazing hotel nurse who got us sorted out with insurance the next morning, so we could get checked out again at the private hospital, and who kept following up with us to make sure we were okay; the customer relations staff who helped us change our plans and navigate next steps with such sincerity and follow-through. Just so much humanity. Even now, remembering it all, tears are welling up in my eyes. How could our terrible mistake be met with such grace?

I’ve been realizing, slowly, that allowing ourselves to receive this care, and not pushing it away with our regrets and remorse and relief, is all part of the healing. Letting the care in is actually what makes the repair possible. And, it has made me wonder about other ‘crash’ moments in my and others’ lives. How could they have benefited from acknowledging this cycle, slowing down, and receiving care for repair?

It came up recently in a conflict mediation I was supporting between two colleagues in an organization. They had a painful and pointed breakdown at a leaders’ retreat months ago, and hadn’t figured out a way to talk through more fully what happened there, what led to that situation, and what to do to release and move forward. In the course of our three sessions together, and also in the one-on-ones I held with each of them, I noticed how much ‘story-making’ was blocking their abilities to listen more deeply, acknowledge each other’s pain and hurt, and fully honor their own pain and hurt, too. When we could slow down these stories, and investigate and disrupt the repetitive patterns within them, I noticed that they each became more present, and they each then had more capacity to receive the care that the other was offering to them. That reciprocal care set the foundation for rebuilding trust and finding generative ways forward together.

Though I am sure they (like me) wish the initial ‘crash’ never happened, they (like me) were able to move towards a learning-full repair — once they could slow down enough to stop the cycles of reactions and instead prioritize vulnerability and the giving and receiving of care. They (like me) shifted from a ‘coulda, shoulda, woulda’ way of engaging the past — fruitless because what’s done is done and nothing can be different — into a place of acceptance and understanding, which seems to be the basis for mutual healing.

Maybe that’s why I feel so passionate about feedback to feedforward. It’s not just to prevent crashes, which is wonderful, of course, but it’s more about enveloping mistakes in an environment of care so that repair and rebuilding can happen. If I accept crashes will happen — because there will always be moments when I or others go too fast and move unintentionally and/or unconsciously — then I want to co-create a culture that embraces me and others in those moments. Mistakes and accidents are inevitable, in our organizations, networks, communities, and families, and so how can they be met with grace, held with truth, and wrapped in care? It’s like the abrasions on my skin. It hurts a lot to to address them directly, cleaning them and applying medicine and bandaging them. Yet, after the stinging subsides, when the pain has been treated with care, the healing is also inevitable.

The key, for me at least, is to allow the feelings of regret, remorse, and relief to flow, and not getting stuck in them. Otherwise, I am captive to the voices in my head, repeating the ‘coulda, shoulda, woulda’, unable to be present to what is here now, unable to offer or receive care for myself and others, and unable to learn and grow. Repair seems to come more easily once I’ve allowed for and integrated those feelings, instead of being subjugated by them. It’s not linear, of course, and I fall back into the feelings in moments of tiredness and overwhelm. And, with the passage of time, I am getting better at catching myself, softening my heart, and putting the broken pieces together into a new whole.

Austin and I have been moving through these cycles together as well, and now that we are home, the repair can continue. We are appreciating how we made space for all the feelings that came up, not freezing ourselves or each other in any particular moment. We are also appreciating how we did our best to navigate and lead with our values in every interaction as much as possible. We are feeling grateful for the care we received and the care we offered to others, doing all we could to heal what we hurt and express our deep apology and gratitude. And we sense that as our bodies heal, so will our hearts and spirits. Both of us feel committed to taking forward the learning — mostly about slowing down and communicating our doubts to each other if they come up — and are forgiving ourselves and each other for what happened. We are here, we repair, and we set the intention to make better choices in the future.

I see many ‘crashes’ happening the world today, collective ones and personal ones, and so I share this prayer for repair with all of us. May we be able to flow with all of the feelings that arise, be met with grace and held with care, and integrate all the learnings towards well-being, wholeness and brighter futures together. Let the healing cometh after the fall.

How have you navigated feelings of regret, remorse, relief, and how have you repaired after a ‘crash’? I would love to hear in the comments, if you’re willing to share.